Exit Interview
by Mr Toes
Summary: Orcs Must Die: A short conversation between the War Mage and the Grand High Wizards of the Elucidated Inner Circle of the Order. Contains endgame spoilers.


**Exit Interview**

The Grand High Wizards of the Elucidated Inner Circle of the Order were, to a man, skilled practitioners of magic, brilliant politicians, and (in their hey-day) warriors whose very names would be the subject of orcish bedtime stories, if the orcs had any need for such a thing. They were also old, and as is often the case with old people (and wizards in particular) they were not the sort of people to make decisions quickly. Meetings lasted days, sometimes weeks, and when a decision _did_ finally filter out of the Elucidated Inner Conference Chamber it was treated with the gravitas and severity normally reserved for proclamations from sovereign heads of state.

Still, there are always times when one needs to move quickly. Yesterday, for instance, the Grand High Wizards of the Elucidated Inner Circle of the Order were, to a man, suddenly and inexplicably out of a job. The rifts had been closed, and with them magic had vanished from the world. Some of the quicker Grand High Wizards had realised that this put their livelihoods in a rather tenuous position, and an emergency meeting had been called.

The Elucidated Inner Conference Chamber was a room that most wizards and mages never saw, although rumours persisted about large mahogany chairs, enormous dribbly black candles, and a fireplace that could be used as a ready line of communication to anyone, anywhere in the world. Those spreading the rumours would, therefore, probably have been disappointed to learn that it was a fairly dark, bland room with uncomfortable furniture and poor acoustics. On the plus side, the central table was a grand stone affair, and the chairs were cloaked in darkness, but the more cynical observer would be forced to admit that, firstly, grand stone tables were hardly uncommon and secondly, the only reason why the chairs were so dark was because the lighting in the room was quite frankly atrocious.

Twelve figures were occupying those chairs now, although their features were almost impossible to discern in the murky gloom. One of them leaned forward, revealing a red cloak with a silvery hem, and spoke in a high-pitched, reedy voice.

"So, the magic's all gone, then?"

"Yes," spoke another, clothed in a rather gaudy purple and yellow cloak.

This was given due consideration, then, "Bugger."

"We all knew what would happen if the rifts were closed," the purple-cloaked man went on, "What I don't understand is who would _do_ such a thing?"

"Well, we have one potential culprit," a green wizard said, "A guard overheard a member of the Order bragging about it in the pub. Short brown hair, big chin, wears a scarf...he's been arrested and is now waiting in the antechamber."

"Who is he?"

"An idiot," another one said, this one a woman. There was a rustling of paper in the dark, "One second...can't see a bloody thing...ah, yes. Do you remember that young boy who we apprenticed to...oh...what's his name? That old war mage who kept getting drunk and starting fights?"

"Vaguely," there was a pause, "Oh no, _him_?"

"The very same."

"But he's an idiot!"

"That's why we packed him off to the front lines with the drunkard, remember?" there was a pause, "Still, it turns out that his particular brand of idiocy may have been the saviour of us all. I assume you've all seen the reports."

There was a general nodding of heads. They had all heard about the strangely organised orcish hordes smashing through the rift fortresses, and a couple had even been tasked with the repulsion of those that had made the transition to their world.

"An entire generation of war mages, all wiped out," said the red cowl, "And he survived."

"_How_?" the purple cloaked wizard said, "I distinctly remember someone saying he was totally unteachable! An arrogant, stupid braggart with the self-preservation of a lemming and the magical ability of kelp!"

"Well, it's possible that he was too stupid to know when to quit," the red cowl went on, "I have one of that old drunkard's reports here; 'He has no comprehension of the idea of 'defeat', although this may be due to his generally poor comprehension in all areas of life'. Apparently, he spent more time flirting with young girls and coming up with one-liners then he did actually practicing the art."

"So how did _he_ manage to close the rifts?"

"Oh, come _on_, Godfrey," the red cloak said admonishingly, "You know that that's the first spell that we teach our apprentice mages. It's practically in our orientation seminars! 'Here's your crossbow, your spikes, and incidentally don't _ever_ cast this spell that I'm about to teach you'."

"In hindsight, that may have been a mistake."

"Possibly, but I suspect that the drunkard was delighted that he was able to teach this boy _anything_."

"Maybe it wasn't a mistake. We all know who he was up against, don't we," a brown cloak muttered, "She was the most brilliant of all of us. All our other students aspired to be a tenth of the war mage she was!"

"What happened to her, incidentally?" asked Godfrey.

"No idea," the brown cloak said, and shuddered, "Quite frankly, I'm happier _not_ knowing."

"Maybe we were wrong in our approach," said the woman, and there was a tutting from another shadowy chair, "Hold on! Maybe what we _needed_ was someone just foolish enough to do the unexpected!"

"Well, he certainly did _that_, and doomed us all in the process!" said a yellow cloaked member, "You _do_ know that there's a hurricane bearing down on Aqua Orsoris, yes? I don't think anyone there even knows what a hurricane _is_!"

"They'll find out soon enough, I'm sure."

"Indeed," said the red cloak, "Still, I suppose further speculation is pointless without questioning the boy. Send him in."

Normally, one of the wizards would have gestured imperiously at the door, causing it to swing inward with a great, ponderous groan. Instead, there was a short bout of confusion, and finally two other wizards clambered to their feet and, with a certain amount of huffing and puffing, began the laborious task of heaving the enormous wooden door-

"Here, lemme help you with that!"

With a shriek of protesting hinges, the door flew open almost crushing the wizards in the process. Behind it stood a tall, young man who would probably be considered quite handsome in the right light, were it not for the perpetual, arrogant smirk and a chin that one could quite easily break rocks on.

"So, you're the Grand High Wizards, eh?" he said, striding into the room and throwing himself down in an empty seat, "Strange, I thought you'd have some of those big black candles in here."

"Would you take your feet _off_ the Grand Meeting Table of the Elucidated Inner Circle?" one of the standing wizards said, effortlessly enunciating the capital letters, "And you're in my seat!"

"Sorry, old man," the young man said. He removed his boots from the table, but otherwise made no effort to move, "I knew it! I knew at some point you'd want to congratulate me for savin' the world!"

"Yes..." the purple cloak said, with some astonishment, "That...isn't _exactly_ why we have called you here, um...we don't appear to have your name."

"You can call me the War Mage," said the War Mage, "'Seein' as how I'm the last of 'em and all."

"Um...very well, War Mage," said the woman, slowly, "Perhaps you'd like to explain to us why you saw fit to close the rifts. That seems like quite a decision for one as young as you to make."

"'Cause if I didn't, we'd all be up to our bal-our _eyebrows_ in orcs, lady!" the War Mage said, "That sorceress, whatever she was called, was bringin' in _armies_ of orcs, ogres, and kobolds-"

"-oh my!"

"Yeah! She was batterin' down the rift fortresses like they were made of paper! Real smug, too! Kept on going on about how she was _so_ unstoppable an' she was going to rule both worlds. I'd like to see her face now, hah!"

"I suspect you probably wouldn't," said the brown cloak, shuddering again, "But I have seen the Weaver's reports. Twenty-four days, twenty four large-scale assaults on rift fortresses. Possibly as many as fifteen thousand orcs slain-"

"Yeah, that sounds about right! Damn orcs just kept coming!"

"-along with countless archers and paladins-"

"Well..."

"-and an enormous monthly overspend on traps, which, I'm sure you'll understand, cannot be recovered as they are now situated in a world we have no means of reaching."

"That's hardly the boy's fault," said the red cloak, "Attacks of this size are unprecedented. That he managed to survive at all is impressive."

"That's damn right!" said the War Mage, "Just me and those traps-"

"-and the countless archers and paladins-" added the brown cloak.

"-against the numberless horde and their _really_ cocky leader. Did you know she offered me a general ship?"

"No, but I'm not surprised," said the yellow cloak, "In retrospect, it's a good thing you didn't take it. Anyway, do go on."

"So yeah, after she wiped out all the other war mages, it was just me bein' dragged from fortress to fortress tryin' to keep her from getting over to our side," said the war mage, "It was then that I realised that, hey, at some point she's going to get lucky, right? I mean, the old man died 'cause he slipped on like a banana peel or something, so eventually the same would probably happen to me, and then what?"

"So you decided to close the rifts?" pressed the woman.

"Well, yeah, what choice did I have?"

"You could have called for help."

"You think I didn't try, lady?" the War Mage leaned forward belligerently, "You reckon that the Weavers didn't try either? I kept getting 'The person you are trying to contact is dead. The next of kin have been informed'. Plus the sorceress seemed _soo_ sure of herself, she _had_ to know something I didn't. None of you were there to make the choice, and if you were you probably would've bottled it!"

"That...may be true," the purple cloak conceded, eventually, "Still, what's done is done. The rifts are closed, and the orc hordes will never bother us again. I just wish that it hadn't come to this."

"Well, if you're lookin' for someone to blame, blame that sorceress!" the War Mage's magnificent chin thrust forwards, "I did what I had to do!"

"And you performed admirably under the circumstances, child," said the woman, reassuringly, "You can go now. We may call on you at a later date, if...our council still exists."

"Yeah, I'll be down the pub if you need me," the War Mage said, coming to his feet with a thud, "Just don't wait too long, 'cause I plan on getting pretty damn drunk tonight."

"So...I see."

With that, the War Mage left, slamming the door behind him with another shriek of protesting hinges.

"What an...interesting lad," one of them mused, "I wonder what he'll do now?"

"Go and get drunk, I think," said the red cowl.

"I mean _after_ that. Isn't much trade in wizardry without magic in the world, is there?"

"I suppose not," said the red cowl, "Maybe we should also give some thought to that. I suppose the Elucidated Inner Circle will have to be disbanded soon."

"Indeed."

"We...are sure magic is completely gone, right?"

"Of course we are."

There was another pause, and then, "Bugger."


End file.
